


As Many Wild Strawberries Grow In The Sea

by zeddpool



Category: Original Work, Supernatural
Genre: Dimension Travel, Gen, Interdimensional Travel, I’m not even in this fandom wth, Nonbinary Character, Spirits, Trans Female Character, Trans Female Sam Winchester, Trans Sam Winchester, Vampires, Witches, how did i end up here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-01-05 03:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeddpool/pseuds/zeddpool
Summary: Move over Dorothy...After a successful hunt in the Sierra Nevada, Sam and Dean drive into some bad weather, and wind up decidedly not in Kansas anymore.





	1. A Bolt From The Blue

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I’m not in this fandom, I will probably get stuff wrong, please have mercy. I am but a simple gay, and damnit, y’all’s cosplayers are cute!
> 
> 2\. The title is based of a Mother Goose rhyme that I misremembered and, in my opinion, improved.
> 
> 3\. Blessed Walpurgisnacht! This feels an appropriate night to post a fic of this nature!

The town they had stopped in was small, some place called Strawberry, and they dealt with the haunting at the Inn pretty quickly, something about a bride-to-be that was murdered by her fiancée the night before their wedding, and was taking it out on every couple that wandered onto the gazebo out back.

The pair had just checked out, and were just getting on the road when a thunderstorm hit out of nowhere. They got a fair distance away before the storm clouds enveloped the sky above them, rain coming down in thick sheets, the morning sun blocked out so completely Dean had to turn the headlights on. A deep rumble from above signalled the presence of lightning nearby, and Sam looked around wildly, trying to see where it was coming from, but saw nothing.

Above them, the sky crackled, dark clouds rapidly lightening with the glow of electricity, and a lightning bolt the size of the Mississippi tore through the air and right into the Impala.

The two could do nothing but gape, blinking in the stark white light that pierced through the glass panes between them and the outside world. Then, quick as it came, it was gone, the sky dark and air eerily silent, and the Winchesters hazarded a glance outside, Sam’s eyes opening first, practically shoving Dean into the door until he, too, opened his eyes to see what had happened.

Instead of the winding mountain road they had just been on, they found themselves smack dab in the middle of a dense and shockingly dark forest, the deep green conifers around them stretching up and out of sight, blocking most of the sunlight that tried to get in. Sam and Dean looked at each other in unison, silently agreeing to get out and look around. They didn’t make it far from the car, Dean worrying they’d get lost if they lost sight of the Impala, all the while wondering where the hell they were, and, more importantly, how the hell they got here. As if in answer to his unvoiced thoughts, a low voice rang from directly behind him. 

“You’re new.”

At the voice, Dean whirled around and heaved his knife into the stranger’s chest, and right through to the other side. Dean stared in disbelief at his arm, which was now elbow deep into whatever-this-thing-was, their pale form rippling almost imperceptibly around the intrusion. He pulled his arm out, or rather, back through, the apparition, silently marveling at the sensation. It felt like...like moving your hand through water, no discernible texture or viscosity, but with the unmistakable drag of resistance when you move around. Once he had his arm back, he was slightly unnerved to find it was completely dry, save for the rain that beaded up on the leather sleeve of his jacket, but still much drier than he had any reason to expect.

“Dean? You okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know, Sammy, but I don’t think we’ve got the kinda heat it’d take to kill this thing.”

The figure only looked mildly offended at that, the way one would be if someone had insulted their coffee order. Miffed, certainly, but it’s not really something to make a fuss over. 

“‘This thing’, Dean Winchester, has a name.” the stranger countered. Their voice was low and soft, like the hum of a rainstorm from inside the house, and their accent was indecipherable, as if they’d learned to speak English in every country in Europe at the same time. “Not that the two of you ever bother to ask.”

Sam held Dean back from launching himself at the stranger. Again.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s your name? And how do you know ours?”

“Morcant. And I know a great many things about you. Only when I need to know them of course. Omnipotence is somewhat...conditional for spirits of my circle.”

“Well then, Morcant, would you mind telling us what we’re doing here? And where _here_ is?”

Morcant smiled wryly, mostly with their eyes, as their face seemed almost...numb to expressions. They gave the impression that, rather than having no emotion to express, they were simply too old to be bothered to express it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know why you’re here, since that is what you meant. What you are doing here is quite clearly attacking the first person you come across. And as for where here is? Muir Woods National Forest, approximately 5300 worlds away from your own.”


	2. Who? Witch? Where? When?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters find themselves allied with a very unlikely group, and some much needed conversations continue to not be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don’t actually know that much about this show, so forgive if I get anything wrong.

The two hunters gaped at the stranger in disbelief. Dean recovered quickly, though, and launched into a (rather loud) interrogation of the... being before them.

“The fuck d’you mean, 5000 worlds away? You sayin’ we’re on another planet??? What the hell did you do, you granny-haired creep?!” 

Morcant just cast a level gaze on the elder Winchester, replying in the same low, smooth tone as before.

“I assure you, you are still on Earth. Just not _your_ Earth. I am afraid your language is not as precise as I would like. By world I meant...iteration of existence, like a-“

“A parallel universe.” The younger of the two hunters spoke up.

“In _very_ simple terms, yes. Though not exactly parallel, more... existence a bit to the left.”

“Whatever,” Dean cut in again, “I don’t care if this Earth is upside-down and 5 feet higher up! I wanna know what we’re doing here and how the hell we get back!”

“And I have already told you, I do not know. But I know someone who may be able to help you.”

“Right, and why should we trust you? What _are_ you, even?”

“I am a spirit, though,” they cocked their head, as though turning in to catch a whisper, “not in the same sense as you use the word. Spirit of Rain is the simplified version. I am the spirit of distant ocean storms when seen from the shore, of moonlight reflected off still water, of driving through fog in the moments just before the sunrise and just after sunset. I am the spirit of any place where the air is as thick as the veil is thin, and the mood is melancholy.”

It was Sam who replied this time,

“So, basically you’re some kind of patron spirit, like, an elemental or a god, of liminal spaces created by water. Is that right?”

“You flatter me, child. I think you will find there are no gods in this world. But you are correct as to my domain. I am... impressed. And as for why you should trust me? Well. It is not as though you have much choice.”

Dean was loathe to admit it, but they were right. That didn’t mean he had to just give in and make nice, and he had no intention to do so. Through gritted teeth, he replied, 

“Say we believe you, and that’s a big _if_ , where exactly is this friend of yours?”

“Just a little ways south of here, maybe a quarter of an hour as the crow flies. Granted you drive there, of course. Getting there on foot would not be... advisable.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, hackles raised and shoulders tensed, but Sam cut him off.

“How about a compromise?” Sam glanced at Dean for approval, receiving begrudging acquiescence in response. “If you can get us out of these woods and onto an actual road in one piece, we’ll go to meet your friend.”

The corners of Morcant’s lips twitched upward almost imperceptibly, which, the two assumed, was equivalent to grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Deal.”

The three trudged back to the car in silence, or rather, the Winchesters trudged and Morcant followed soundlessly, no doubt gliding just above the forest floor. When they reached the Impala, Dean hopped in the driver’s seat and unlocked it, Sam reaching for the passenger door but pausing, jaw slack, as their new companion seeped into the backseat through the seams of the door, their body dissolving like fog and reforming just as quickly on the black leather in back. Sam climbed in last, and shared a glance with Dean, who muttered,

“I think I actually preferred the teleporting.”

If Morcant was confused by the comment, they didn’t mention it, just sat silently, patiently, for the elder of the two to get a move on. After an eternity of seemingly aimless driving, that was really more like twenty minutes, all the while a steady commentary sounded from the backseat, punctuated every so often by loud cursing as Dean narrowly avoided trees that, as he put it, ‘came out of nowhere’, they finally reached a wide and unnervingly empty road.

“Do you trust me now?”

“Hardly! I lost count of how many times your directions nearly got my baby wrapped around a pine tree-“

“Actually, they’re redwoods.”

“Not the point, Sammy! This- this... _fog-goblin_ almost got us killed!”

“I told you to drive slowly, the forest is dense. It is not my fault you chose to ignore my suggestion.”

The hunter spluttered, face reddening in anger and embarrassment. Though Dean would never know it, Sam was inclined to agree with Morcant. Nonetheless, Dean finally calmed down and let the rain spirit continue their navigation.

“So where are we headed, anyway?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

* * *

‘Soon enough’ turned out to be about twenty minutes, give or take, but Morcant had good reason to assume they’d figure out where they were pretty quick. Regardless of Sam’s (albeit short-lived) tenure as a resident of the area, the towering scarlet arches of the bridge they were soon crossing were, for lack of a better word, iconic. Perhaps it was something to do with the new world they found themselves in, but even after everything they’d seen, as they entered the Golden Gate, the Winchesters felt... something, an almost wave-like surge of energy, a crackle that travelled from the tops of their heads, racing down their spines, and finally settling beneath their feet. In retrospect, that should’ve been their first clue as to just how different this reality was from their own. Regardless, upon realising where they’d ended up, both hunters started to speak, Dean beating Sam to the punch by mere seconds.

“San Francisco? We were up near Tahoe, how the ever-lovin’ fuck did we end up in Frisco?!” 

Both Morcant and Sam pulled faces at Dean’s outburst. Yet again, Sam was just barely too late to speak.

“For future reference, I would not deem it wise to refer to the city as ‘Frisco’, lest a local hear you and help remove the kneecaps you forfeited by saying it. And to answer your question, I did say ‘existence-a-bit-to-the left’, did I not?”

“First of all, gross. Secondly, what the hell does that mean?”

“It means, Dean,” Sam said, finally finding an opportunity to cut in, “that there are slight differences between this world and ours in regards to their respective positions in spacetime. So, just because the two Earths overlap, doesn’t mean they line up perfectly. If anything, we’re lucky-“ Dean began sputtering indignantly, “Yes, lucky, Dean, that we... ‘landed’ where we did. A little further over and we could’ve ended up sunk in the Pacific. Or smack dab in the middle of a volcano! So, yeah, I’d say a big forest next to San Fran isn’t too bad a place to wind up.”

“Again, ‘San Fran’. Kneecaps. Better not.” Morcant added from the backseat.

Deciding he’d gotten the gist of Sam’s rant, Dean turned his attention to the one part of the conversation he fully understood,

“Anything else we should avoid saying while we’re here?”

“Yes. ‘Cali’. It’s not as universally hated, but it’s still better not to risk it.”

“Good to know. Hey, where’re we goin’, anyway?” The elder Winchester asked, pulling up to the tollbooth and rolling down his window to pay.

“I do not know the street address, but I know how to get there. I will tell you where to turn.”

Dean made a distracted noise of assent as he was handed his change. As he rolled his window back up and pulled away, he remarked,

“Y’know, for a split second there, I was afraid they wouldn’t take my money. Like, I dunno, maybe y’all pay with seashells or something in this world.”

Sam gave him a level glare before sharing a silent conversation with Morcant, during which Dean was pretty sure he was being called an idiot.

“From your behaviour - make a right here - one might think this is not your first time in someone else’s world. I know it is not, but again, my knowledge is not... precise.” 

Letting Dean focus on driving, Sam answered their reluctant guide.

“It’s not, depending on how you look at it. We’ve dealt with plenty of alternate timelines and pocket dimensions, but I don’t think we’ve ever been to an entirely different universe before...”

“Yeah, we did, long time ago, remember? We were actors in a TV show about our lives, our _real_ lives, with ridiculous names. What was Cas’s name? Mickey? Moire?”

“Misha, yeah, I remember that. That was weird. But still, it was at least tangentially related to us, y’know? But this? There’s no connection, no clear reason for us to be here. I’m not saying that’s necessarily a bad thing, it’s just... I don’t know what to do.”

There was a stiff silence in the car, stifling, like an over-starched collar, only broken by the occasional “Turn left at the next light.” and “Third street off the roundabout.”

Just as the disquiet of the quiet started to ease, the rain spirit spoke up again. 

“Who is Cas?” 

The two in front shared a glance and spoke simultaneously, though not in unison.

“It’s a long story,” Sam answered from the passenger seat, just as Dean gave a dismissive, “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

The last comment earned him a startled look of disbelief from the younger hunter, while Morcant raised a (nearly non-existent) eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror, as if to say, ‘Do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe? Really?’

But instead they just said, “Pull up over there, under that magnolia tree.”

* * *

The house they’d parked in front of was a small two-story near the West end of Golden Gate Park, and had clearly seen better days, but it’s exterior was painted a vibrant teal with purple accents, which would’ve stood out in any other city than this, but was right at home amongst the eccentric paint jobs that dotted the streets around it. The front garden, what little of it there was, was overgrown with dark flowers - deep purple irises, blood red snapdragons, midnight blue orchids, and dozens of black flowers, from roses to lilies to tulips and more. Sam, who had lived in the area for a time, was more or less unfazed by the... unique appearance of the house. The same could not be said of the elder Winchester, who looked ready to burn the place to cinders and get the hell out of dodge. He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone knocked on his window. Turning in his seat, he was surprised to see Morcant staring back, as he was sure none of the doors had been opened the entire time they’d been parked. Pushing the thought aside, he rolled his window down to hear them.

“My friend’s house can be intimidating, I know, but there’s no need to be scared.” 

Dean bristled at the insinuation that he was intimidated by a _house_ , the tips of his ears a bright scarlet as he huffed and climbed out of the car in a snit, slamming the door and stomping up the stone path to the front door, pausing briefly to call back at the other two,

“Well? You coming?”

Sam held back a laugh when Dean turned back around to come nose-to-nose with Morcant, cursing loudly at the spirit and shoving past them. Or, rather, attempting to shove and instead finding his arm once again phased through their fog-like frame, which only caused him to curse louder. Lip bit to hold back a chuckle, Sam got out and followed, catching up quickly. A moment later, the three were at the door, Dean ignoring the sign reading “Please ring the bell” and banging on the door **much** harder than necessary. Quick, thudding footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, getting louder _fast_ , before the door finally swung open, nearly clipping Dean’s nose in the process.

“Morcant, mein freund! Wilkommen! Wie geht’s?”

The man that stood grinning in the doorway was decked in red from head to toe, or rather, hat to cuff of pants, his pale feet bare. He was tall, about the same height as Dean, with ten times the freckles and a shock of curly ginger hair. Both hunters were unnerved by the slightly unnaturally red cast in his brown eyes, and Dean could’ve sworn he saw a flash of fangs when the man’s smile grew impossibly wider.

“This is the guy who’s gonna help us?” 

“No. THAT is an idiot. Do not worry, though, she is on their way.” They said, turning to address the German ginger in front of them. 

“Hello, Ruedi. I am well. Why are you up at this hour?” 

“Ah, lovely Morcant, so glad to see you care, now please, **come in,** ” Ruedi made it clear that  _that_ part of the conversation was non-negotiable, “and all will be explained!”

And so, Morcant allowed themself to be ushered in, and their... _guests_ followed suit, trailing behind the strangers as they wove through the house, finally coming to a stop in the living room, the Winchesters sitting down first, slumping down onto the sofa in almost perfect sync. Morcant drifted into a rather odd position on the couch across from the two hunters, almost perching atop it. And then, at last, Ruedi gracefully draped himself across the same couch Morcant was perched upon. His strange, red-brown eyes flitted to the newcomers on the sofa for just a moment, before turning that unearthly gaze to Morcant, his expression now fond and mock-pleading.

“Now, Morcant, my dear, I am only awake at this time of day because I was simply starving and in desperate need of a midday snack! But when I went to my fridge, it was empty, barren, devoid of sustenance! But, as you know, I am not some helpless babe, no! So I crawl out of my crypt to seek the services of my most generous host, and request that they procure me that which I need most, and she granted my humble wish.”

Dean turned to Sam and whispered,

“You catch _any_ of that?” 

“He was hungry and they were out of food, so he asked his housemate to get some, so she’s out doing that, and we’re all stuck here waiting for her.” Sam whispered back.

Ruedi seemed to have noticed them whispering, and turned his attention their way.

“Speaking of snacks, Morcant, who are these lovely guests of yours? I’m assuming they’re here to see Ellis. The short one’s kinda cute, but the tall one? Ooh, gorgeous! It’s a shame I’m not interested in wom-“

**_ *DING DONG*_**

Whatever Ruedi was about to say was cut off by the conveniently loud doorbell, considering the person at the door was already inside, arms laden with groceries. Not a minute later, a shorter person(woman?), 5’8” at the smallest, rounded the corner to the living room, short, spiked undercut dyed a vibrant blue, a stark contrast to the the blood red thing in her(?) hand.

“Hey, man, they were all out of O neg, so I got you AB neg instead, I hope that’s alr-“

She stopped dead when they saw the two strangers sitting on her sofa, clearly realising just how much they’d just let slip, turning panicked eyes to her friends, who looked equally unprepared to deal with the situation. 

Ruedi seemed not to care, though, and gingerly made his way to where the newest arrival stood, humming happily as he relieved them of her burden. She recovered from their shock just as Ruedi sat back down, slurping hungrily at what was very clearly a bag of blood. Before the hunters could fully process what had just happened, they found themselves ushered into the next room, which turned out to be the kitchen. The person who had just come in wasted no time in putting the remaining bloodbags in the fridge as she talked.

“Before either of you say anything, I need to be sure that you will not harm Ruedi in any way. I don’t care how they do things where you come from, but in my house? Under my roof? Everyone is safe and welcome, regardless of what they are. And I don’t need to be omnipotent like Morcant here to know exactly what you two were about to do.”

Morcant spoke up from just behind them, startling them both,

“They are hunters. The short one called it ‘ganking’ in his head.”

“Yes, thank you, Mor. Now, have I made myself absolutely clear?” 

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam put a hand on his shoulder to cut him off. 

“Listen, Dee, I know our job is stopping monsters back home, but this isn’t home. Remember what Morcant said?” Sam whispered, “This world doesn’t have gods, of any kind, so it’s not a stretch to think that maybe vampires aren’t a threat here the way they are in our world. Just... for once, can we give nonviolence a try? Please? For me?”

Dean’s resolve quickly crumbled at Sam’s puppy-dog eyes, and he ground out a reluctant, “Fine.”

Sam beamed at him before turning back to their hosts. “We’re clear. No killing, no matter who or what a person is.”

The bluenette visibly relaxed, smiling softly at them, and extended her hand, which the hunters both shook in turn as they spoke.

“Well, then! Now that that’s settled, I reckon introductions are in order!” She lead them back towards the living room as they said this. “I’m Ellis, she/they.”

“He/him!” Ruedi called through a mouthful of bloodbag from the sofa, waving a hand as if to clarify who was speaking. As they sat down, he held a hand to the side of his mouth and said in a stage whisper, “We’re pretty sure Morcant got here before gender was invented, so we just go with ‘they’.”

Sam’s heart leapt at the casual exchange of pronouns, desperately wishing to say, ‘Sam Winchester, she/her’ but she kept quiet, and said nothing as Dean responded,

“Dean Winchester. And I’m a he, so’s my brother Sam here.”

As much as she wanted to correct him, she really, REALLY didn’t want to open up that can of worms at that moment. Still, she couldn’t help but notice Morcant staring at her, something familiar about their thousand-yard gaze, that made her feel like they knew what she wasn’t saying, and they mumbled something that sounded very much like “If you say so...”

Ignoring the flips her stomach was doing at the thought of her brother finding out, she turned her attention to Ruedi, who was sucking down the last of his meal. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that stuff from?”

“Morguesboard! Best stuff in town.”

“Ah.” She said, as though that explained everything.

Dean was looking more and more agitated by the second, eventually turning to Sam and grumbling,

”I need a drink, Sammy.”

Sam shrugged at him, giving him a ‘what do you want me to do about it’ sort of look, so he turned his attention to their hosts.

“I don’t eat.” Morcant murmured dismissively.

Ruedi held up his empty blood bag by way of an explanation, chirping “I only drink blood!”

“All I’ve got is mead, and that’s only for offerings.” was Ellis’s apologetic reply. Sam bit back her questions about what they meant by ‘offerings’ just as her brother bellowed,

“SON OF A BITCH”

Ellis piped up again, “Ah, actually, hold on...” they trailed off as she stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. They came back a few minutes later, a sizeable glass bottle of dark amber liquid in her hand.

“You’re in luck! A friend of mine gave me this rum at a party a few months ago, and it hasn’t been opened since!”

She held the bottle up, tilting it in a silent offer, and set it down to grab a glass when Dean nodded. They poured him a decent amount and he took it gratefully, raising it to his lips and taking a sip right as Ellis asked,

“So, what sort of trouble are you two in that requires the help of a witch of my talents?”

Sam shielded her face as Dean spat out his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a native San Franciscan, if you call it Frisco I can and will eat your kneecaps.
> 
> Also I strongly headcanon Sam as a trans woman, so if that’s not your thing, leave now.

**Author's Note:**

> There’s more OCs a-coming, so if that ain’t your bag, leave now. I can reassure you, though, I won’t be shipping any OCs with the SPN crew. Yeaugh.


End file.
